


Make Me

by sbrant



Series: Brightest Star [2]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Consensual Sex, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Frottage, Hair-pulling, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romantic Fluff, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, absolute horny mayhem, like very very light lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-06 22:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19072255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbrant/pseuds/sbrant
Summary: Bill and the reader relieve their stress.





	Make Me

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed this! Thank you for reading :)

One way or another, she knows the entire time she teases him that it will only make his retaliation that much worse, but she's doing it for that very reason.

Their night had started with the both of them being stressed out of their minds and somewhere along the way it has spiraled from there into him lying beneath her with his hands tied to their headboard. The restraints are gentle on his wrists, but he's still surprised the skin there doesn't ache with how much he's been tugging against them.

Her hands are a whisper of a touch on his skin, barely caressing where he wants her to, and that coy smile of her's is going to be the death of him.

When it comes to  _activities_ like this, a lot of men would find it emasculating. Hell, a lot of people in general would find it degrading, but he doesn't see it that way. There's something undeniably hot for her to have such complete control over him and he knows it goes both ways. Despite how frustrated he gets when she constantly teases him and turns him on but refuses to get him off, he can't help but melt at the sight of her in a position of dominance. All he wants to do is reach out and touch, to run his hand along the lace tightly hugging the curve of her waist, but he can't. Every time he jerks on his restraints, she pulls back from him more and the teasing intensifies.

They couldn't have picked a better night.

It's a Friday night, so their roommate, Eddie, is busy at work and has left them the apartment all to themselves. Then, taking into account the fact that they're both stressed out and have no obligations tomorrow morning other than spending it relaxing and spending time together; this is the ideal night for this type of stress reliever.

Y/N is hovering above him, just out of reach, and whispers into the space where his jaw dips to his neck, punctuating her words with a hand palming him through his underwear, "Are you gonna stop being a brat so I can untie you, or do you just want me to sit here and tease you all night?"

If he wanted her to untie him out of genuine discomfort or a change of heart, all it would take is one word, but that's not the case tonight. He won't safeword her, but he wants more than anything to get his hands on her. The lace camisole that she slipped on earlier in the night leaves little for him to imagine. Sheer black fabric, slightly disrupted, has her cleavage spilling out along the carefully cut neckline and it's entirely distracting as he tries to form words. That and her hand finally giving him some much-needed relief put together is making it impossible to think, let alone speak.

Her chest is pressed flush up against his, her entire body pushing up on him as well, and his face is redder than its ever been with all things considered.

"What?" She murmurs, feigning innocence and looking down at him in a way that makes him want to slip out of these restraints and flip her over onto her back.

Her hand dips underneath the waistband of his underwear and she drags her fingertip down the length of him; Bill's returning exhale shaking.

The lace trim of her camisole tickles his skin with the movement of her gently grinding down against the muscles of his abdomen for some relief on her end as well. He almost comes in his underwear right there at the sound of her moaning through where she bites her lip, the fabric of her underwear brushing up against that hypersensitive bundle of nerves so perfectly. The rush of that short burst of pleasure makes her wrap her hand around his dick in a sudden reflex that has him barely able to keep himself from jerking against where he's tied to their bed.

Only by the sheer power of will does he keep himself from finishing at that alone, eyebrows furrowed in the midst of that overwhelming touch.

He has to curse under his breath at the sight and feeling of her surrounding him on all levels. The sound of her voice, smoother and more sultry than it usually is, only makes that desire worse. The body, warm stretches of exposed skin, that he can feel all over him and the legs that straddle his hips. The soft palm of her hand that rubs up from the base of his cock without hesitation, thumb brushing over the head and catching a few drops of pre-come that had dripped while she mercilessly toyed with him all night.

Y/N pulls back from him, hearing a hint of a whine from him with the loss of contact, and meets the heavy-lidded gaze of those blue eyes as she swallows the bit of the liquid off the tip of her thumb; making him watch her do it.

She could swear that he hasn't once blinked since she made that eye contact with him. No, he's staring at her with eyes that tell her far too much of his intentions with her once she eventually unites him, not even blinking when she chances a bold roll of her hips down on him. The only sign of its effect on him is the clenching muscle in his jaw when her clothed crotch brushing up against his without the familiar restraint she's been showing prior to now.

Her hands brace on his chest, his breath catching in his throat when she slides back on top of him, breasts pressing against his chest tightly as their mouths meet in a tender kiss. It's much more enthusiastic on his end, due to her being so committed to making him get to the point of writhing the teasing is so bad, and she leaves sweet little pecks to his lips as if they were saying goodbye in the morning or cuddling on the couch together. It's not the kind of kiss you give a person when they're tied up beneath you.

"What's wrong, Bill?" She says, then whispers into the spot on his neck that always drives him wild when she nips at the skin there, "Frustrated?"

He doesn't want to give her the satisfaction of being right, but he nods frantically anyway, pillow-mused hair getting even more disheveled with the movement.

Y/N's lips curl with a playful half-smile and, quicker than she had cuddled up to him, she moves back.

It's easy to see, especially with how close they are and how long they've been together, that her patience is wearing thin. There's only so long that she can go feeling like this without it becoming too much and needing that release from him. They're both in need of something more, so it nearly makes him let out a noise from the sight alone when she reaches down to pull her camisole over her head.

Lace hugs every curve as she peels it off, the top sliding up the slope of her waist and slowly over her breasts until her body is almost entirely bare. The expanse of her skin against the hues of the candlelight in their bedside table makes him wish he had a free hand to run along the smooth plane of her thigh, that he'd be free to fully appreciate the woman in front of him.

She reaches up to where his wrists are tied to their headboard and looped through one of the metal columns, but pauses as she rests her hand on his restrained ones and lets her eyes fall over him.

The muscles in his torso are flexing with every movement she makes, his body tense in anticipation of what she's going to do. She can tell he desperately wants her to let him go and knows that once that happens, her turn to be the one in control will end in a heartbeat. The mere thought of what _he's_ going to do to her makes her toes curl, but she still takes her time and draws it out as long as she can; not even attempting to hide the way she eyes him up. Watching him as he looks up at her in expectation, stomach wavering with every heavy breath he takes, the few bruised patches of skin trailing to and eventually halting at the waistband of his underwear a stark purplish-red against the pale of his skin.

At this point, he's so hard he'd be willing to do anything to get her to touch him again.

They both, respectively, had horrible days.

The duration of it was flooded with stress and anxiety and she figured they'd both go to sleep feeling that way, hoped a night's rest would cure the negativity. But then she gave him a kiss on his way through the door and they both leaned into it a little too much after a while; Bill letting his coat slowly slip from his hand and nudging her toward the wall behind her, Y/N responding instantly and running her hands down the length of his torso. It was at that that she realized maybe they could get those feelings out of their system another way.

Somewhere along the way, they ended up here.

For a second, she lets her domineering role falter and she traces the edge of his bottom lip with her thumb, whispering, "I love you."

And Bill, surprised by the sudden shift, smiles against the fingertip brushing his mouth.

It happens sometimes. Amid the passion and the blind-physicality of nights like these, it's hard to not want to slow down, if only for a moment, and let everything fall away. She was looking at him and he was looking back up at her like she was some kind of goddess, he looked so gone for her. When she met that gaze, she couldn't help but say that.

His smile still lingers on his face, her hand falling away to her side when he returns the sentiment.

"I love you," So vulnerable, so real. Then there's a purposeful pause, him debating what he wants to say, and he responds snarkily, "e-e-even w-w-w-when you're a t-tease."

Immediately, her face shifts, the last word throwing her back where she had been before, and her loving smile changes into a delightful little curve of her red-painted lips that gives him a lot of not-so-decent ideas. In fact, they're downright obscene and it's making him that much more antsy to get out of the position he's in. Looking at her, you wouldn't think she's so capable of such naughty things, things that make his breath catch just thinking of them. She looks sweet and innocent, looking at you with shy eyes and a charming smile that once fooled him into thinking she was that reserved, bashful girl in other situations. But, with him, she isn't.

She looks down at him and keeps both hands up at his bound wrists.

As if challenging him, Y/N says, completely back into the game they'd been playing together before, "And what are you gonna do about it if I let you go?" Her smile is devilish and alluring, but he can still see the excitement lingering there with that question.

One of her hands slid down from his wrist and rubs idly at his chest while they're caught in a stare-down. Bill's reaction to that question, his sharp intake of breath and the slight flare of his nostrils in reaction to her rolling her hips on him in a particularly at taunting way, makes her feel that wetness pool in her panties.

There's a brief second they stay locked there, unmoving and quiet, but then he speaks and it shatters that peaceful moment of silence and calm before all hell breaks loose.

"Y-You're j-j-just gonna have t-to find out for yourself."

All it takes is a little tug on each of the knots she tied around his wrists, undoing the careful loop and sending the bit of rope to the space between the headboard and the wall to disappear for the rest of the night, and he's on her in less than a second.

Her gasp at how swiftly and forcefully he flipped her onto her back is cut off by his mouth hitting her's so hard it nearly hurts.

Breathy, muffled moans fill the air surrounding them; Bill having instantly began to grind against her for some much-needed relief, practically whining at the spiking bliss that floods him as soon as their bodies met and he felt the warmth and slight slickness of her against his partially clothed dick. (She had pulled his underwear down just enough to get a grip on him earlier and they've been disheveled ever since). His weight pins her to the mattress, helped by his hands shoving her arms above her head and holding them there with one hand while the other begins its descent; caressing down her neck, her shoulder, until it reaches the slope of her breasts and his palm, much larger than her own, stretches over one of them.

Bill hums into the kiss, as if trying to say something before remembering that her tongue is practically halfway down his throat, and his mouth slides down off her chin to follow the pathway his hand had made.

He presses hot open-mouthed kisses down, down, down until he's reached her breasts; teeth nipping at the sensitive skin, pulling a noise from her that makes his hips jerk forward to her on instinct alone. Her skin is soft on his face, the barely-visible stubble on his jaw a stark opposite to it that almost makes her giggle with the way it tickles her.  _Almost_ , because what he's doing is too distracting for that to even phase her.

His other hand is still closed tightly around her wrists though and she can do nothing but sit back and watch him as he pleasures her. The sounds of her panting breaths are all he can focus on as he kisses her, mouth parting and licking along the edge of her nipple, and it's that that makes him only want to do more to her, to explore every inch of her body and see what other delightful sounds she can make.

Her back arches into the sensation against his mouth, her heartbeat speeding up in reaction to him. It's not just what he does, it's everything. The way he'd looked up at her earlier before she untied him and how he looks now; lost in the focus of making her dizzy with every caress, kiss, and lick he makes to her breasts. Hair wild and messy from the time he's spent writhing around beneath her, eyes glassy and blown-wide with lust, pale, freckled skin flushed all over his body from what felt like ages of being teased by her; he's gorgeous like this and it's making her downright hungry for him. She doesn't know if she can endure the waiting and the games, the time he'll surely take to draw it out and torture her with anticipation before he finally gives her what she wants.

Her skin glistens with his salvia where he's kissed her, the trail of it leading down from her neck all the way to the peak of her nipples and he continues it down further to that dip in her chest between her breasts.

In a way, Y/N doesn't know what she wants.

She can't tell if she wants to be the one in control or if she wants him to lead, all of that pent up frustration from earlier only a fuel to his fire that will end in her getting fucked so hard she can barely walk afterward. It's genuinely thrilling to even think about him doing that. Between the love and the passion and the aggression of that type of lovemaking, it would be such a sight to see. If only she'd let herself give into it and give herself to him entirely. No more teasing.

Bill, at last, lets the hand holding her wrists together go and it follows directly to where the rest of him has reached, dipping below the hem of her panties and tugging them down her legs as if he'd simply die if he didn't get them off of her already.

And she watches him from where she's laying as he stops to toss them aside, reaching for his own underwear while he has the chance. Chin tucked against the sheets, arms still thrown back on either side of her head, she watches him fully undress. The flickering light from the collection of candles on the bedside table falls over the room in a surging warm light and his skin is bathed in it, the tones of red in his hair are practically glowing as strands fall into his face with his movement. Strangely, it doesn't feel odd to be laid so bare for someone, such open vulnerability. It used to make her feel weak to be like this in front of someone, especially men, but this is natural. Empowering, almost. It's different to before because she trusts him with every piece of her heart and there's no part of her that questions his devotion to her.

So, she will be vulnerable for him just as he is for her.

Her eyes follow him sliding his underwear off his legs, stopping shamelessly to stare at what's uncovered for a short moment, and turning to drop them into the small pile of their clothes that has gradually grown with the impending night. While he isn't looking, she sits up.

It's hard to decide if she wants to be in control or if she wants him to have total power over her, but, then she realized, just because she's on the receiving end this time doesn't mean she can't be in control. There's something a bit spine-tingling about him obeying her wishes but still having complete physical control over her.

She crawls down the length of the bed, the tangled sheets and duvet silken to the touch beneath her hands and knees, until she's there with him. She was too impatient to wait for him to come back to her.

Bill turns back to her with nothing but love in his eyes, hands running down her shoulders as he leans forward to dip his face into the crook of her neck. There's a barely-audible moan that escapes the back of her throat at him sucking at that spot just below her ear, along the topmost edge of her jawline. Y/N's hand flattens against his chest and ever so slowly slides south, fingertips brushing through the sparse hair trailing beneath his bellybutton until she's reached much lower.

Her hand suddenly wrapping around him, practically throbbing with need at this point, makes him lean as close as he can into her and she has to pause at his teeth scraping the already bruised skin on her neck.

She pulls him back from where he was focused on that already huge love-bite he was sucking into her skin and makes him look at her. She has him gripped at the chin with her free hand, murmuring to him between kisses, "If you don't fuck me already, I swear I'm gonna lose my mind..."

Bill, trying to hide how much of an intense effect hearing her say that had on him (though the way his cock twitched in her hand at the proposal of it betrayed him), kisses her deeply, not bothering with hesitation or teasing and opts for just forcing his tongue into her mouth.

Her responding moan is enough to drive him wild.

"You're g-gonna have to ask n-n-nicely," He whispers sarcastically into her mouth, "Then maybe I'll cons-s-sider it."

Y/N actually lets out a soft bout of laughter,  _so much for being in control_.

No, after what she made him endure he's going to be insufferable about this and she completely deserves it. He was practically begging for her earlier in the night. But right now it feels all too hot in this room and neither of them can handle it, even if he is pretending to be nonchalant about dragging this on.

It's beginning to get to be too much and he's sure that if they don't get some kind of actual relief soon, they'll  _pounce_  on each other.

Her breath is hot on his neck, "Hard enough that I can't walk tomorrow," She says, then adds in that same gentle voice you wouldn't expect such naughty things from, "pretty please?"

"Y-You're sure?" Bill says, this time not being a tease or playing along with their little game, but genuinely wanting to know if she's alright with this.

And it's the way she smiles at him before responding that tells him everything he needs to know before she even says it; lips curling tauntingly and eyes narrowing in something a lot like desire as she looks at him.

"Yes."

He was right about one thing; they definitely pounced on each other.

It's teeth and hands and limbs all clashing and meeting in a near-violent collision that neither of them have the self-control to tame.

Bill shoves her back onto the mattress so hard that her breath catches in the back of her throat at the impact of her body sinking into it. There's a familiar feeling that stirs in the pit of her abdomen at this; the sight of him acting so dominant and aggressive with her. It's always passionate with them, but this is different. Especially since he was in her position not too long ago. Her chest rises and falls a little too quickly, her breathing sharp and swift as she watches him move the rest of the way to where she is. Dipping to where she has her legs pressed together, he grips her by the knees and doesn't bother with formality when he spreads them apart; his face buried between her legs quicker than she could blink.

She, not having been touched like this all night from being on the giving end with him, moans involuntarily, the sound just slipping from her as soon as she felt his tongue put pressure on her clit.

"Fuck," She mutters, desperate to reach down and touch him.

Except, when she moves her hand from where it had been balling up the sheet into a fist in reaction to his ministrations, he instantly pinned it down, the grip of his fingers around her wrist almost too tight in a way that makes her bite her lip. He doesn't let up, but instead just pulls her apart bit by bit in the best way. All she can do is writhe against the sheets and watch him. His hair brushes against her thigh, every open-mouthed kiss he makes to her core a fuel to that desire that swirls in the pit of her stomach. God, it's almost undoing in itself; every kiss and lick and the sight of him pleasuring her alone. It's hard to think through the hazy feeling falling over her to even lift her head to look down at him, but she does and it only makes that feeling wildly intensify.

The noises she keeps making has Bill's grip on her wrist go so tight she might have a bruise there tomorrow.

No matter how many times he does this to her, it'll always make her melt; the paired sight and feeling of him between her legs. Usually, she'll card her fingers through his hair, maybe tug a bit too hard if he gives her a particularly knee-weakening lick, but he keeps the hand she tried to move pinned down and she knows he'll do the same if she tries again with her free one. The way he's being with her makes every feeling she usually has when this happens flare higher. Everything about it is undeniably sexy and she just wants him to devour her entirely.

No time for teasing or hesitation, only complete, unadulterated gratification.

But she's brought back to reality when he pulls away from her.

Y/N furrows her brows, looking up at him for guidance, and props herself up on her elbows rather than lying flat on the bed as she was before.

The candlelight flickers over her naked form, her body fully on display for him as he takes a split second to look her up and down. And despite the fact that they're moving so fast, burning so bright, that split-second feels so drawn out to her since she's so needy and desperate for him to get his hands on her again. The way he looks at her in that fraction of a second though-it was enough to make her legs tremble with how much she wants him, with how clearly he wants her in return. It wasn't the desire that was clearly there that made her feel so desperate, it was the love. It was that same look he gave her earlier; the kind that told her everything she needed to know, the kind that says I love you more than any words can convey. He looks at her like she's the only star in his sky, the brightest star.

He, remembering their situation after getting lost with her there for a second, says, his voice a little lower than his normal speaking voice, "Tuh-Turn over."

And she raises her brows, as if challenging him for the fuck of it, and tilts her head back against the bed while she returns the favor of the obvious eye-fucking he gave her a moment ago; her eyes falling over his nakedness, lashes fluttering down as she moves her gaze between his eyes and a part of him  _much_  further south. She shrugs.

It's nearly fun, toying with him when they have nights like tonight. Correction: it  _is_  fun. He's so easy to provoke when they play these kinds of games and it ends in the best kind of unhinged fucking either of them have experienced when she does it.

"Make me."

Bill doesn't even hesitate.

He flips her over so forcefully, using the physical strength she always forgets to expect from him because she never sees it outside of times like these and when she needs him to lift her to get something down from their inconveniently placed medicine cabinet, without so much as a second thought.

His hands are perched possessively on her hips. He tugged her back so she's right up against him, back arching down as she keeps herself on her arms and knees with the side of her face pressing into the mattress.

Everything's moving so fast and there's not even time for her to get her bearings before he's inside of her.

"Bill!" She cries out.

So much, so soon it's nearly over stimulating to feel all at once. It went from barely anything at all as she teased him for ages to him buried deep within her. Usually, he's so scared of hurting her, always taking an extra second to make sure she's alright despite her telling him on multiple occasions that it's okay, but tonight it's different in every way and he's submitting to her wishes, to what she asked him for without being the docile lover she's used to and she loves it.

She's used to the feeling of him gradually filling her up, since they usually go slow to start and take it from there, but right now it's different. As if it wasn't enough of an adjustment, the way they rushed into things makes it feel that much more overwhelming and she swears she can feel him in a place she didn't know could be reached. For a brief second, it was as if she'd forgotten in the heat of the moment how overwhelming he can be and then he was sliding in and in and in.

Yet despite any discomfort from the pace they're setting, the pleasure of it all outweighs everything.

Bill has to squeeze where he's holding her waist in restraint.

They're not going too slow, but they're not going too fast either and it's borderline painful to wait this out, even if it's only for a little while. But if it took all night, he'd still do it if it meant her comfort and so he takes it easy for now; watching her where she's panting into the mattress as he pushes into her. Every touch of his hands on her skin burns and everything about him makes her wild, from the loving way he rubs up and down the curve of her back to the feeling of him filling her up again and again; every thrust a little harsher than the last in a way that makes her see stars.

Her hand grasps over his, fingers interlacing and nails scraping at her skin, and she rocks back against him. It's a bit of an adjustment, but she's getting there and he's definitely not taking it as easy on her as he normally would after what she asked of him (not that she minds at all). The sensation of feeling him that deeply in her-it's indescribable. And with every push he makes into her, he makes her shiver and have to grip to the sheets until her knuckles go white. The hand interlocked with his is holding so hard she's surprised he hasn't pulled it away, but he doesn't care, he's far too lost in her to even register that slight pain of her holding too hard. It's minuscule compared to having her wrapped around him.

He isn't necessarily being gentle with her, not by any means, but he's still been giving her more than enough time to be ready for what she wants rather than going right for it and she's practically ready to flip him over onto his back if he doesn't quit being careful with her. She doesn't want careful, she just wants  _him_. In the most pure, animalistic way she can have him.

"Please," Y/N says, voice nearly interrupted with the noises he's pulling from her.

The tips of her fingernails dig into his hand hard and his hips jerk forward at her so hard in reaction to that that they both tense. But she still keeps that hold on him and moves back against him, Bill nearly falling apart at how needy she is for him. It's so hot he doesn't know what to do with himself; warm, naked skin meeting his, her back arching down, body twisting so desperately for him. That's what makes it so overwhelming, so hard to handle. She wants him this badly-

When he snaps out of his daze, the awe he experienced for that brief moment he watched her practically fuck herself on him, it's more than either of them bargained for.

It takes her ripping her hand off of his and keeping both arms planting on the mattress for her to steady herself with how fast and abruptly he began to fuck her into the mattress.

They're both moaning messes for one another not even a few strokes in and he can't help but reach down and lace his fingers into her hair, gripping tight as his hips hit her so hard it nearly hurts. But neither of them find it in themselves to care about that. Nothing matters outside of this, this unleashing of all of their stress and anxiety until there's nothing left but their physical selves merging in the purest of ways. One of his hands is twisted up in her hair and the other is holding her by her hip, using both as leverage to give it to her as hard as she asked for; the sound of the headboard slamming into the wall so loud they'd worry for complaints from their neighbors if they weren't already so preoccupied. They're so far gone into their own little world that nothing could pull them out of it though. Both of them had downright awful days and this whole time they've been descending into this territory they rarely get to, a place so detached from the rest of the world, so far away from what troubled them all day long. In a way, it's the physical form of heaven. This mindless euphoria and love that takes up their entire attention so there's nothing that can get through to ruin it.

She had already been worked up beyond belief, practically ready to jump on him before he'd finally shoved her back into the bed, but now it's on another level. He's typically the less vocal of the two of them, but right now she can even form coherent words, let alone string anything together outside of helpless whining and his name on the rare occasion she can manage it. It's what she wanted though and  _holy shit_ is it what she's getting. She's a babbling mess, just gasping and focused on keeping her legs from giving out beneath her with how hard he's hitting into her; the angle so deep he consistently reaches this spot in her that makes her nearly roll her eyes into the back of her head.

But he can feel her trembling and it's obvious how she's struggling to keep herself from literally collapsing. So, as he's withdrawing from her, he pulls back completely and, before she can even register the loss, pushes her onto her back.

He's scrambling to get back to where he was, the split-second of separation already far too long, and she clearly shares the sentiment, since she's grabbing at him and whining in an attempt to pull him onto her as swiftly as their bodies can manage to move.

He enters her with one strong push, the time they spent apart forgotten as soon as they've reconnected.

They're face to face now; her breasts pressing up against his chest with every harsh, merciless rut he makes into her, their legs tangling together until they're pulled in close, close, as close as they can physically get. It's almost comical how desperate for one another they are. They're pawing at each other, tugging, kissing, biting, scratching, and fucking in every sense of the word. It's on a primal level it's so intense between them.

Bill catches her roughly, their mouths meeting and teeth banging as they kiss and their tongues quite violently force their way into each other's mouths. And they can both feel that feeling building within them, slow but sure to strike them hard when it does eventually spill over and send them careening over the edge together.

Red lipstick smudged all over and around his lips, he pulls back from her mouth to pull her leg from where it had been entangled with his. He hikes it up around his waist, groaning into her open mouth at the angle it creates for them with every erratic thrust in a way that makes that building ecstasy in the pit of her abdomen spike dramatically. Y/N could get off untouched to those noises he makes alone-it's borderline pornographic. The canvas of soft skin that runs under her palm as she drags her hand down his shoulder, along the length of his back, has goosebumps raising in the wake of her touch all the way down until she reaches his ass; hand squeezing the soft flesh hard enough for him to let out a sharp breath into where they're kissing-no, more like  _devouring_ , each other. Needing more, wanting to hear more of a reaction him, she digs her nails into his skin until he's gasping and she's left behind crescent-shaped fingernail marks on him.

At this point, it's building to a point of no return and there's nothing they can do but push forward through it. Bill is making noises that she's never heard him make before and she's just melting in his arms with each harsh hit his pubic bone makes with her clit on the upstroke. It's hard to keep themselves away from that ever-approaching brink, especially for him with the way she's chanting his name like a prayer under her breath and clinging to him helplessly through all of the stimulation. The angle they adjusted to has him colliding with that sensitive spot inside of her and that wonderful bundle of nerve endings every single time and she's lost any and all ability to say anything other than his name. Everything else has evaded her entirely outside of him and the heat of his skin against her, the feeling of him inside of her.

He's still fucking her into the bed hard enough to break the drywall behind the headboard when it hits her, blinding and harsh. And, at the feeling of her tensing beautifully around him, her muscles spasming in reaction to what he's giving her, he's sent over the edge too.

Y/N is gasping into his mouth as her orgasm rages through her, the sound of his moans as he rides it out with her, holding her to him and having her watch him come undone, making wave after wave of white-hot pleasure feel intensified in the wake of  _him_. In having to hear and see him whine and moan and cling to her through the brunt of it. For her, it's this arch of seemingly unending bliss and he prolongs it with his slowing movements, the thrusts calming as he begins to come down from it all. It had been chaotic when they initially went over that brink and they were still clawing at each other for more, but as it went through them bit by bit, their world began to spin slower. And, amid the chaos, their eyes met and he leaned down to press a tender kiss to her lips.

They're just now pulling away from it when he withdraws from her and the sounds of their panting floods the air around them.

It's quiet for a long time and it takes an unusual amount of time for them to recover enough to be brought back to reality after their respective climaxes. It's a peacefulness and state of post-orgasmic delight that's strangely heightened, since, after all, they surely did enough to earn it. There are no moans or her muttering his name or the violent banging of the headboard against the wall.

Just silence.

Y/N chuckles softly at that thought of that, resting her head back against the soft pile of blankets beneath it as her chest rises and falls against the weight of him lying halfway on top of her. His arm is wrapped tightly around her waist and his face rests atop her breast. It's her soft laughter that brings him out of his own head though. Before he heard, and felt, her chuckling to herself, he was lost in that space of full-body relaxation after all the energy they exerted.

But now he perks up, poking his head up from where it had been laid on her chest to look at her in curiosity.

"W-W-W-What's so funny?"

She smiles, giggling a bit harder, and tilts her head back to look up at the headboard with a light to her eyes that hadn't been there when she initially got home tonight.

"I just-" Her eyes flutter back down to meet his gaze, "Our neighbors must fucking hate us."

Bill huffs a tired laugh, the half-smile on his face making her want to pull him in for another kiss, and says into her shoulder, "You laugh now, but w-w-when we get noise complaints and E-Eddie finds out why, he's gonna be p-p-pi-pissed."

"Oh, not at you," Y/N coos, pushing sweat-damp hair back from his forehead, "how could any of us be mad at Big Bill!"

She finds herself wishing she never said that though because he raises his eyebrows and smiles at her with that smug grin, looking down between their bodies and up to her face again.

"You think so?"

Then he's getting whacked on the head with the pillow and he barks out a loud laugh at her playful aggression.

"Oh my god, Bill!" A soft hit to the arm, "I didn't mean it like that and you know it, you horny bastard!"

Their laughter floods the room, him trying to dodge her few half-hearted attempts at getting him with the pillow again before they both fall back down onto the bed with a soft huff.

Y/N scoots up to his side and lets her cheek rest on his shoulder, hand rubbing up and down the length of his chest.

It's once the laughter begins to die and their breathing becomes less labored and heavy that she stops to think though; features hardening with thought.

At the start of the night, when they both got home, she had been in the worst mood. Practically seething with anger after she'd gotten into an argument with her family-family she tends to keep away from when she can help it-she came through the door and dropped her bag when she heard him unlocking it behind her just a moment after she had come through it. Bill had taken all of that negative energy and turned it into something good, into love, and she had done the same for him. After walking in and while they slipped their shoes off, taking off their coats, they both briefly mentioned having a rough time and it lead them here.

It's wild to her how easily the stress and lingering anxiety had simply faded away when they kissed in the hallway.

Now, it's entirely gone and there's nothing that could bother her if she tried to let it. She kisses where she's leaned her face against him, fuck-drunk, and tilts her head up to get a good look at his face.

Bill, noticing her staring after a few seconds, turns and looks down at her with that same look he's been giving her all night. It makes her wish she weren't so exhausted because it makes her want him again. But she settles for looking up at him through her lashes, tracing languid circles in the thin layer of sweat clinging his chest.

He looks at her with stars in his eyes.

"You had a bad day?" She asks, voice so soft he nearly has to strain to hear her.

The gentle brush of his hand sweeping along the curve of her waist connecting to her hip makes her eyes begin to feel heavy with sleep, yet she still fights to keep them open to talk with him.

His day had been...interesting (to say the least). Far too much happened to go into explaining to her while she's in a state like this, so he holds off on it for now, already over it by now enough to wait until morning anyway.

"Mmm," He hums, which she takes as a yes, but then he whispers back,  leaned in close enough that their noses brush with his words, "It's a l-l-l-luh-lot b-better now though."

It's not surprising that she's about to pass out on him so quickly. The last time they'd done this, they'd gone at it for what was practically the entire day and she was so out of it from exhaustion and overstimulation that by the time he helped her to bed, she clocked out before she hit the pillow.

Bill kisses her one last time before she falls asleep, a tired smile on his face, and she kisses him back with what little energy she has left; clearly trying to tug him closer but succumbing to her body's own self-sabotage. He almost laughs at her exhausted nature, the way she yawns into his face and wipes her eyes, starting to fade into the sweet, lulling comfort of sleep.

If he had to, he would endure a million horrifyingly bad days like today for a moment like this with her. Just to be with her this way, cuddled together in the darkness and candlelight, smiling from the haze of orgasmic bliss, sickeningly in love, is a blessing in itself.

It's worth all the dark moments of his life combined.

With her last second before she completely falls unconscious, she murmurs, her lips nearly brushing his, "I love you."

Shaking his head in disbelief that the woman in front of him is even real, Bill murmurs to himself, "So worth it."


End file.
